


raw and open hearts get stabbed, you know

by netherprince



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: (also pain for murder's sake. this is the fahc), (any serious self destructive tendencies are mostly in passing), (mostly theres a lot of pain for pleasures sake), Death, Fake AH Crew, Immortal Fake AH Crew, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Masochism, Multi, Multiplicity/Plurality, Self-Harm, Suicide, Violence, like a lot!, plural ryan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-05-18 11:45:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5927164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/netherprince/pseuds/netherprince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ryan broke, James was there to patch him back together. Ryan was never fixed. James never left, and he seems determined to keep Ryan in the business of blood and death, even when it comes to their personal life.</p><p>This would be easier if they weren't both headmates occupying the shell that the core left behind. </p><p>It would be even easier if James didn't know how to throw him into attractive crews.</p><p>(ryan is plural, half the crew is trans at the very least, and everyone should live forever)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. begin

James is good.

James keeps Ryan safe. It's what he was supposed to do, always. He wasn't there, and Ryan was hurt, wasn't he? So now he makes the hurts stop. And the world is so _beautiful._

Ryan always tells him that there's pain in this world. That he should be careful- that they aren't safe- but James doesn't know what pain is. Not as a feeling. He knows how to inflict it, and it's never the way the people around him do it. They want there to be long, slow, drawn out pain. That's what the speaker in his ear tells him, tells him that this man who is screaming and crying will talk if he takes it slow.

James doesn't like slow. James knows that if he messed up, the man will just come back! That's what he and Ryan do- after all, Ryan put the gun in their mouth and he just woke up with a little dizziness a few minutes later. James doesn't like slow, and that's why he smashes a bat across knobby knees and watches the way the blood arcs.

 _God,_ the world is beautiful, and James is screeching with laughter, doubled over and leaning way back with the wheezes and shrieks. He can't help it. If he wasn't on a job, he'd make himself bleed like that, because it feels just as beautiful as the sunrise. If he does it wrong, he gets to try again. Every time he messes it up, he'll come back and do it better. He's already shaking, though, eyes wildly bright against black paint and there's a wail of fear from the chair. He's shaking, and that's why the bat rattles against the floor, jangling and ringing.

When Ryan is the one with the hands, they shake unless he's making pain.

James only shakes when he can't stand how much the world is, and when he laughs. He's always laughing. The speaker tells him that his laugh is terrifying in the skull mask, and he giggles out a 'spasibo' in sweet, heavy Russian, which Ryan corrects into a clipped, "Thank you." English still isn't his strong suit, but he doesn't need to speak anything when he understands pain sounds. And, oh, it's a symphony, when he goes to work. A thump, a wheeze, a thump, a whimper, a thump- a whine that trails up into a sharp shriek, and then there's a plea for  _stop. Please. I'll tell you everything._

The violently giggling Russian breaks his hands for good measure before letting Ryan step in. He's not good at sitting still and listening and writing down details. No, that's not what he's for.

After all, who the hell would ever use a hammer to keep notes?

\---

It's hard to survive in Los Santos as a mercenary, especially when you only front half the time. Ryan's learned this the hard way, waking with enemies he doesn't remember more than once before he secured a safehouse out of town. The GeeGees, Funhaus, even the American branch of the Cast: they all hate him and need him in turns. Of course the cops hate him, but, well. He's a mass murderer and torturer, even without James' record attaching to his own.

They used to keep track, for competition, but after the big warehouse explosion that drove 11 out of the game, they gave up. Too many.

Anyway. Surviving. Surviving is a hard thing to do with a reckless, dangerous headmate, because sometimes you blink awake and you have a gun to the throat of the golden son of the Teeth, his blue eyes gawking at you like you said you shit an entire cow every day and hands held up out of reflex. He's wearing a shitty suit and he reeks of alcohol, but Ryan knows better than to think that a drunk Geoff Ramsey is a harmless one.

"What do you mean, you want a job interview? You don't try to kill someone then ask for a job, you sick fuck! I don't care if you're the fuckin' Vagabond or not!"

Goddammit, James. There's soft giggling in the back of his skull, and Ryan just jams the gun against his windpipe, glaring down at Geoff because he can't do anything else. The shadows in the room blink at him and shift sickeningly before Ryan growls- apparently, Geoff assumed that was at him, because he makes a nervous little whimper.

"Would you rather me go join the Cast? I heard they have an opening." Last week was fun, he reminisces. It came out that one of the Cast hurt real, true, actual innocents, intentionally, and, well. That touches on the raw edges of his memories. Ridge hit the ground with a very satisfying splat, and Ryan bought a new plant. It was good. "After all, maybe you don't like being alive."

It's startling when, so much like James, Geoff offers a giddy laugh and forces the trigger on his gun.

Ryan only has a moment to process this, before, instead of becoming a lifeless corpse, the Teeth member falls into dust, clothes and all. Just like James. And then, still trailing dust, he jerks awake in the bed on the other side of the balcony door. Just like James.

Apparently, Geoff was assuming Ryan would run. Instead, the mask-wearing man just stares as blankly as he can, arms crossed. He's trying not to fall down sobbing because someone else is immortal, this is real, he's not alone forever and ever like he thought he would be, he hasn't just deluded himself into thinking any of this.

"You want to hire me."

The effort it takes for his voice to not crack is monumental.

And, before Geoff can question him, either, Ryan pulls the same card trick, and by the time he's breathing again, the man is crowding him into a wall and tugging his jacket open, pulling at his shirt, jittering his fingertips over the mask. He looks like he's about to cry.

"You can't die on me like everyone else?"

Ryan doesn't get close.

The Vagabond doesn't get sentimental.

Maybe no one will let it slip that these are lies. He knows it's a lie himself, because he rips his mask off and hauls Geoff closer and weeps like heaven opened its gates in the fall of blood and dust.


	2. the second one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ryan and james almost get caught, james doesn't understand why they have to hide so much, and they meet the new friend
> 
> (mentions of nsfw and violence, also just vague nsfw stuff)

James sulks. It's all he's allowed to do. 

Ryan gets to touch and hold and adore Geoff, he gets to meet the Teeth, he gets to move into the nice new apartment. It is nice! It's warm, and nice looking, and full of soft things and sleek materials. But James has to sit and watch from the background, looking over Ryan's shoulder and grunting.

James really, truly doesn't understand why he's just not allowed to meet Geoff. It'd be so much easier than never mentioning him, than keeping him in the shadows... But Ryan steadfastly refuses, and he enjoys his little snippets of freedom. Of being himself, of having the hands, of having the voice, or doing what he's here to do. 

Apparently, though, people don't approve of having headmates that don't mind death and violence.

Every once in awhile, James is thrown a bone. Geoff says that Ryan needs to kill something. Not in those words, of course;

"Ryan, we have trash to clean out."

"Ryan, these double crossing fucks are trying to steal drugs."

"Ryan, someone cut Gus off."

And Ryan lets James have a break, as soon as they're away from the crew. A break to break, as it were. They only get caught once like this, only once, and it was terrifying and confusing in turns.

One of the Geegees had decided to try to be brave. Yeah, let's attack the Teeth. Try to take over a chunk of their territory. It's an obvious James job if they ever saw one, and he did it easily. Not dead, he didn't kill the shmuck, but J is missing teeth now and he's not gonna be holding a gun for awhile. Simple. Easy. The kind of job that James could do a dozen times a day. 

The problems came after. Usually, he and Ryan slowly mix the front on the way back, with Ryan kissing Geoff's cheek and giving his report as soon as they're split apart comfortably. They walk home together, relaxing, and James doesn't retreat riding his murderous high, doesn't have to play Ryan's role. 

This time, there's a car.

**Why's there a car? Did Geoff do this?**

_I don't think so. He didn't tell me._

Ryan still sounds sleepy, and James is shaking, glad for the mask hiding his manic look as the door opens. There's a red-head poking their head out, and James blinks. Neither of them recognize the person leaning out, and James almost pulls the gun out of his pocket again before Geoff sticks his head out the back, looking annoyed and tired. "Get in, asshole, I'm trying to score with the hottest chick I've ever seen and I don't want you to be dead by the time I wake up." Ryan can't front, James can't let go this fast, so he just stares. "Haywood, get in the fucking car!"

Well, Haywood gets to be either of them. James slowly crawls into the car, and Geoff looks at him. Ryan would take off the mask. James can't- Ryan is all calm, lazy smirks, blank looks, and James is like a cartoon. He just jitters to himself in the corner, little wheezes escaping instead of his giggles. Geoff only stares a second longer, concern passing briefly over his face before he leans over the back of the driver seat, nuzzling into the lady's neck while she drives. "Jaaaack, why are all my friends weird and fucked up?" 

"You're implying you have friends, Geoff."

"Jaaaaack!" But they're laughing together, and there's the soft little sounds of gentle kisses. Ryan finally helpfully supplies that Geoff mentioned he was going to have a date that night, but he had no clue that he was going to be picked up. 

James is tempted to try to join in, but there's so much dislike towards the idea that he's suddenly sitting back, watching, left manic in headspace. 

\---

Ryan doesn't know why he doesn't like sharing with James. Actually, he does. James can bust someone's head open with a punch, and usually dies at least once every time he fronts. That's not exactly what partners like to see. Even if James isn't the only one who likes pain, Ryan doesn't push them to the death, literally. With Geoff necking Jack and making her swerve a little, Ryan likes the thought of getting cuddly with Geoff.

So, well, of course.

That's exactly what he does, hands still jittery from James' excitement, voice hoarse with it when he chuckles and slides to the middle seat, mask pulled off gently so his paint doesn't go everywhere. Wait, no- this isn't his paint. His paint has more clean, simple lines, and this is messy and mixed and angular in a very, very James way. Apparently, Geoff can't be fucked to care when Ryan is kissing up his inked arm to where it disappears into short white sleeves,  and the car erupts into laughter when, ever so lovingly, the Russian smears his cheek over thousand-dollar fabric.

Well, mostly laughter. Jack and Ryan are laughing, even as Geoff yells himself hoarse and sulks into a glass of whiskey.

 

It doesn't stop happening like that, though- James stays put away, even as Ryan manages to surround himself with two of the most gorgeous people alive. Jack, with her beautiful hair and thick thighs and a soft chest he loves to lay his head on. Geoff, sleepy, handsome Geoff who gets shaggier every day just because Ryan let slip he likes the way the beardburn feels after he eats him out, and hands that roam so frequently that Ryan feels more naked without them on him than with.

James learns to live with it. Pretends he gets to be there, in his blurry vision of the front. Ryan enjoys himself immensely, especially on the lazy days. It's a good day to enjoy. Warm, but not so warm they all avoid each other, with Geoff in his 'pleasantly buzzed but not actually drunk' stage, relaxing while Jack and Ryan take their shots together. It hurts less, somehow, with someone else there, and Jack knows the tricks to make it easier. Geoff isn't one for those kinds of shots, and just lounges, but the occasional compliments help.

"Ryan, your fuckin' beard still has face paint in it, dude."

"Hey, Ry, what shade of red would you call Jack's lips? Because I swear to God they've gotten redder since last year." "Vermilion?" "Yeah, that's about right."

"Is it weird that you two sound so much alike? Is that a bad thing to think?" 

Their chuckles tend to prove that Geoff is okay. Jack likes her voice, Ryan likes his, and they both like each other's, especially when they're whispering to each other. Or when one of them is talking to Geoff. Geoff is very good for being distracting, like how he's running his foot up and down Ryan's calf. James' jealousy sparks up, his protectiveness bristling, but Ryan just laughs and reaches over to haul Geoff over for a kiss. 

"Geoff, shut up and do something more fun with your mouth. My thigh hurts. You could be kissing it better," Jack offers, and Ryan has never seen a man more dedicated to being on his knees than himself. His focus on it is driven away by Jack curling her arm around him, and he rather enjoys the lazy, flickering feeling of Jack kissing him while he reaches down to play with Geoff's hair. 

The words leave his mouth absently. He's a little bit dissociating, just a little, and he didn't realize anyone actually talked until he hears his voice coming to him. He doesn't even know if it was him or James.

"We should make our own branch of the Teeth."


	3. after 3000 years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> james and ryan Argue. james gets the upper hand

James has a bad history with the golden sons of gangs. First was Geoff- well, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing, in retrospect- back when the Fakes didn't exist, back before Geoff was more than a drunken spitfire. Well, he still is a drunken spitfire- James has to stop contradicting himself to keep moving forward.

First was Geoff, now it's Gavin.

Now it's Gavin staring up at him, now it's Gavin yelping, and James just smiles peacefully down at him, down the barrel of the gun he's holding. "Ryan, what are you damn doing, Ryan?!" Ryan?

Oh.

Ryan.

James laughs softly, turning the gun away, as Ryan struggles back awake. Don't talk. Talk, and he'll know. James doesn't even know what he's doing. He felt something, he wanted to be here, but he didn't have a plan...

As he lowers the gun, he laughs again, closing his eyes. Not yet. They can't know yet.

And then Ryan blinks awake, shrugs. "Just messing with you. Geoff likes you too much for me to do anything, anyways. He wants you to have his evil babies."

"Eugh!!! Ryan! Don't even joke about that, you bastard." Gavin glares at him, fear giving way to annoyance, and as Ryan turns away, Gavin mumbles behind his back. "It's like you weren't even you."

Ryan ignores the cold fear that drips down his spine.

***

**I hate this! Why should we hide, Ry, I want to have fun. You get all the fun!**

_What do you care? You still get to do what you do best._

**It's lonely, Ry! You have friends! I only have you! How is that fair?**

_We have to._

**You WANT to.**

***

Maybe James is right, but that doesn't mean he has to be annoying. The next month is a series of close calls, sharp laughs and mistyled clothes. James has always preferred the clothes of the Lads, soft and tight, and it doesn't work as well when Ryan tries to intimidate in skinny jeans.

It's after Ray leaves when Ryan loses grasp on James.

No one had *left* them before. Hurt them, betrayed them, forced them to leave, sure. But they had never had someone just shrug and walk out the door.

Ryan didn't take it well. James, less so.

It's dark and cold in Los Santos, and James wakes up. No Ryan. He brushes their hair, wipes their face. No Ryan. As he steals cereal from the Lads' stash, there's still no sign of grumpyguts, and James gives a relieved laugh into the bowl.

Being able to run free... Needless to say, this doesn't happen often, and James intends to enjoy it.

***

Geoff is a late riser. Usually, on these normal days, he wakes up alone- Ryan sleeps in his own room, Jack is too busy to stay in bed, and the Lads are tiny Energizer bunnies that wake up at the crack of fucking dawn.

This means he doesn't expect to see a familiar stranger eating cereal and watching cartoons on his couch.

His first thought is that Ryan's having a quiet weekend, but Ryan never just leaves his hair down. Especially when he's eating. Geoff, rationally, figures that Ryan's just too sad to care about his hair... But he's brushed, he's clean, and he's laughing at some Tom and Jerry bullshit.

Ryan doesn't laugh like that- sickly, high, off beat. He has low little chuckles, deep laughs.

Maybe he's on drugs?

"Ryan, buddy, are you using the supply instead of your normal meds? We both know that's a bad fuckin' idea, dude-" The laugh he gets in return is not reassuring. Neither is the hectic grin that's flashed at him, topped with too-bright eyes. Have they always mismatched like that?

"...Ryan...? Baby? Are you okay?"

The not-Ryan scoops more cereal into his mouth before setting down the bowl, crudely wiping his face on his sleeve. Another laugh spills out, and the smile widens, as the man turns and crosses his legs on the couch.

"Come sit down, boss. We need to talk!" Ooookay. Ryan hasn't sounded that Russian since they met. Geoff, hesitantly, comes to take a seat, as far away from the grinning Haywood. "Do not look so scared! James is not here to hurt. Well. Am here to hurt. But not here for hurting Geoff!" A thoughtful look tries to make its home on a wild grin, but it's warped, loose and tilted. "Well. Unless Geoff does like. Then James will hurt. Fun only, though. Not mean."

This is a lot to take in. Geoff blinks slowly, working through the thoughts. This guy is calling himself James. This guy knows him. This guy is trying to flirt with him with the threat of violence. Technically, that loops into the 'this guy knows him', but still. He opens his mouth to speak, but fails, rubbing at his cheek.

James' smile falls slowly, and then he's leaning forward on his hands, close up to Geoff's face, too close. "We have met before, boss. Ryan just did not want tell you. Look at me. You have seen me. You know me? You know me! Geoffrey..."

Geoff feels a compulsion to look away. Something about him is repulsive, desperate and filthy and despaired, like a dead body, or an abandoned baby. But... The plaintive murmur of his name, the rasp of his voice, every low note... Geoff meets the mismatched eyes, and he *has* seen this in Ryan before.

Frantic, hungry, longing... Half feral, young. When his paint is messy and his hair is scruffy, when the torture is fast and rough, when Ryan laughs too much and desperately leans into every touch. Geoff knows this.

"...Well. Uh. Nice to meet you, James. Are you and Ryan, uh... Twins? Have you been, like, messing with me, or. Because if you have been, I probably need to pay you, too, I guess..." Geoff trails off, because James starts laughing, shaking his head quickly. "I'm just saying, you look, like, identical."

"Nooo. No no no. Twins too separate. Ryan here. Ryan is... sleeping. Right here. Ryan would not want me tell you, but I am too lonely. Do not like hide in head. Very lonely when Ryan awake." James goes back to smiling, and Geoff jolts when there are lips pressed against his, just brief enough that he can't react properly.

"Eh? Wh???" Geoff can't bring himself to be mad, not with Ryan- James- smiling up at him like he's the best thing in the world. "Why did you... You said you aren't Ryan."

"And you said you like unstable pretty boys with violence problem. And I only able to watch when Ryan love and kiss. Have been wanting to do that." James smiles a little wider, bumping their heads together a little too roughly. "Easy to be jealous." With their contact, Geoff can feel how badly James is shaking.

"Are... you okay?" Geoff doesn't know why he's so concerned. Maybe it's because James has Ryan's face. Maybe he's a sucker for... for violent, pretty guys. But he asks, and James's soft answer makes him shudder.

"I want to hurt you, Geoffrey. So beautiful when hurt. But I do not want to scare you."

"You... aren't gonna scare me."


End file.
